Just seventeen and built like God knows what, she could demand top dollar for her goods. And she did. While the going rate on the street was twenty fo... a blow job she got fifty. Straight sex was fifty and she easily pulled in a hundred. This was the life! The fact that she enjoyed the company of men for sex was just a bonus. She could jill-off ten times a day and not enjoy it as much as one good old fashioned fuck. Short or long, thin or fat...it didn't matter how the guy's package was. It came back to her like it always did, the smell of varnished wood floors, the hat her grandma wore, the droning voice of the vicar. A long time ago. Too long. She craved the innocence of it now, imagined how it would contrast with the stranger’s untidy bedroom. Craved the way her seven year-old feet didn’t quite touch the floor from the wooden pew. Youth is wasted on the young, even when the young behave impeccably. Good grades. Perfect manners. Clean hands, clean face. How did it translate. More

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